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I still. I stop fighting him, looking up at his face to give him my answer. “I like it.”
A slow, sinister smile spreads across his face.
“And if I take it too far?”
I swallow, wondering if my next confession will be taking it all too far. “I’ll like that, too.”
He watches my face for a brief second, and it’s as if time stands still. He knows what I want, but he’s struggling. Giving it to me is the very last thing he wants, despite the thickness of his cock, the proof that this turns him on just as much.
“I’m going to hurt you,” he promises.
“Please,” I beg, tears already welling in my eyes.
It’s pain and relief and need.
“Suck my cock,” he demands, releasing me so abruptly that I crash to the floor on my knees.
I don’t just give in, however. That isn’t part of the game.
He has to take it. That’s his role in all of this. As he unzips his pants and pins me with his thighs against my shoulders to the bed, I realize this comes so natural to him.
He doesn’t have to stop and think. He doesn’t have to do calculations and wonder if what he plans is going to work.
With his fingers back to fisting my hair, he drags my head back until I can hardly breathe with the angle he has my neck at, then he presses forward.
There’s no warning, no waiting a second to see if I’m ready, if my mouth is wet enough to take his dick. He wants it, so he takes it.
I keep my eyes open in challenge, the only thing I can control with the way he’s manhandling me. His eyes are half-lidded, filled with so much hatred and anger that I feel like the victor in this situation.
He’s not fucking my throat because he wants to, he’s doing it because he has to.
He’s unable to resist, but I don’t know if it’s me he can’t seem to cut loose or what he’s doing to me that he enjoys so much.
I feel nearly bereft in thinking that I’m just a series of holes for him to stick his dick in, that I’m interchangeable with any other woman he might encounter.
Anger roars through my blood, and along with digging my fingernails into his thighs, I clamp my mouth down on him. I’m not biting hard enough to draw blood because I know that’s something I might not survive, but I can tell by the flare in his eyes that it’s not comfortable either.
With a clenched jaw, Angel bends in the middle, that same evil smile on his face. He doesn’t try to pull free, and surprisingly, he doesn’t hit me across the face.
Instead, he wraps his hands around my throat until I have no other choice but to release him in an attempt to breathe.
Then the real fight begins because he doesn’t release me as he drags me back to standing. My vision begins to tunnel, my temples throbbing as my body fights for air.
“You think teeth are a good idea?”
I can’t formulate an answer before he sinks his own teeth into my shoulder, and I know he only releases my throat so he can hear me scream in pain.
In the next second, I’m thrown onto the bed, the thin blanket sticking to my still-wet skin.
He doesn’t care that one leg is straight, and the other is bent in an effort to crawl away. He sinks his dick inside of me, chuckling villainously at finding me ready for him.
My body betrays me often, but nothing like I get when this man is around.
It feels dirty, his invasion, his fingers digging painfully into my hips, the brush of his chest hair on my back when he bends over to get more leverage.
“Get the fuck off of me!” I scream, uncaring if someone hears our interaction and calls the cops.
It would serve him right, getting arrested for what he does to my body.
